


play the field

by butchdanes



Category: Gilmore Girls
Genre: Butch/Femme, F/F, Lesbian Character, Lesbian Sex, and lorelai wants to jump her bones, and she's good at baseball, luke danes is a butch lesbian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:22:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23303845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/butchdanes/pseuds/butchdanes
Summary: this is for the script treatment for gilmore girls that amy sherman-palladino said had luke danes as a butch lesbian. we could've had it alleverything is the same except luke 'butch' danes is a butch lesbian. she plays baseball, runs her diner, and loves lorelai gilmore.writing this sex scene in this was hashtag self carebtw Lu does refer to herself using the d slur some lesbians have reclaimed
Relationships: Lorelai Gilmore/Original Female Character(s), Luke Danes/Lorelai Gilmore
Comments: 9
Kudos: 50





	play the field

Lu’s not sure how this happened.

One minute it’s the same routine with them, the same back and forth banter as they dance around each other’s boundaries, occasionally probing and prodding to get a rise out of the other like they always do. She should apologise, she guesses, but she’d be damned if she’s gonna turn away from where her attention is currently rooted; _fuck_ , she thinks, _fuck, alright_.

Lorelai had practically begged her to attend, off-put as Lu was by the idea of a cutesy community fundraising sports game, something to do with that ladies-of-a-certain-age club (or perhaps cult) Mrs. Gilmore was so fond of. It was only Lorelai’s continual begging, and even the deployment of Rory’s skilful guilt tripping near the end as she got more desperate, that Lu finally conceded that she’d attend, at least to see some prominent members of Stars Hollow trip and eat dirt. It also hadn’t hurt that Lorelai had mentioned that the game of choice was baseball; Lu’s heart runs thinking of it, an immediate response, and Lorelai can see the change in the set of her broad shoulders as she stills, a cloth hung over her shoulder and her hands holding the remains of table 2’s french toast and two dirty mugs. The crescent moon curve of Lorelai’s smile is enough to tell Lu she’s thinking about the portrait of the heavy-shouldered girl (Lu hates that term, made her feel small) through the foggy glass of the trophy cabinet at Stars Hollow High. The kid’s eyes in the picture are almost fierce but totally calm as her bat connects with a ball, the photographer clearly catching her at the ideal moment. Under the picture the nameplate reads _LUCY ‘BUTCH’ DANES_ and she knows it as deep as she can now, a universal truth as simple as any; the sky is up, the earth is down, Lorelai loves coffee, Lu is butch.

She’d been young then, and even though she kept her face still and schooled most of the time in a picture of neutral confidence, hearing the nickname whispered like a weapon by the sticky-lipgloss strappy-top girls in the changing room had hurt her. Lu had been both enticed and driven back by their cherry scented everything and bright shiny makeup, and she’d even let herself be used as a dare on a few occasions by bolder girls at prom nights, sucking hickies into their necks along the back wall by the gym until hearing them call her a dyke in the hallways the day after became too much to bear.

Lu’s thinking of all that when Lorelai smiles like a lucky cat, knowing she’s won as she sits back triumphantly. Lu’s also thinking of the feel of the athletic-wear pressing down her chest, how right it had felt to be wrapped so compactly, her hair tied up and away from her face before she’d cut it shorter than was trendy and had never looked back, the sun-sweat taste in her mouth and the hot dirt of the pitch on her hands. And so she agrees to go to the game, and Lorelai cheers sarcastically and asks for a refill. If not for herself now, she goes for the girl who’d spent nights batting alone with just the moon and a few of the floodlights, when being at home had become too hard and she didn’t have the words to explain what she knew was true about herself and how she wanted to live.

Lu’s there the next day, a little later than most of the punters in a half-assed expression of reluctance, and the game is already in swing. It’s a full July day, roaring hot and lightly humid, and everyone and the cold drinks are sweating. Lu sees a few of the townsfolk she knows well perched in the stands and they come over as she arrives; it helps that she’s holding a cooler box full of beer she’d lifted from the bed of her pick-up, its weight refreshing in her arms. She sets it down and gets a few cheers of glee from thirsty punters who yell intermittently as the referee contends with a foul ball. Lorelai’s there with Rory in tail, and much like Lu’s other universal truths, she looks beautiful. Lorelai always looks beautiful. It’s not even something Lu considers anymore, its an inalienable law with a neutrality to it because it just _is._ Her hair is up off her neck and she’s wearing a Cardinals jersey.

“You know who they are?” Lu adds incredulously, pointing to the red embroidered bird as Rory digs around in the cool box with a quick hi to Lu.

“Nope. Got any iced coffee?” She shrugs Lu off, confident in everything like always, smiling wide. Lu sighs because she can and pulls a bottle of beer from the cooler because she knows that Lorelai knows that she doesn’t have any iced coffee.

Lorelai gasps. “Perfect! Just what I was looking for.” Lu wants to roll her eyes but she settles for crossing her arms as Lorelai notices it’s got a bottlecap and immediately hands it back.

“Do you not have a bottle opener?” Which is a stupid question, really, because most of Lorelai’s bags are barely big enough to fit her keys, let alone useful tools. She shrugs again, still holding out the bottle for Lu to take. She concedes and takes it, because of course she does.

Lu pulls another bottle out of the cooler and upends it, holding Lorelai’s right side up. She hooks the lid of the latter under the other, and with a quick pop-and-flip movement, uses the bottlecap to pop Lorelai’s beer open. Lu hands it back to her and does the same to her own beer, and when she looks up from her work, there’s a look in Lorelai’s eye that’s difficult to interpret. She’s impressed, looking at Lu’s hands, but there’s something else there. She assumes its humour or smugness or another emotion in Lorelai’s expansive roster and heads off to find a seat beside Rory in the stands. When she thinks back to this later, Lu can read this look perfectly. She doesn’t consider herself dumb in love or lust (god knows she was, broad under her omni-present baseball cap in a lesbian bar somewhere upstate, nineteen and both parts entranced and terrified by every woman who approached her) but she’d been dumb in that moment, she knows that now.

They sit in a trio by Patty and Sookie, Lorelai pretending she understands how baseball works with random shouts of sport-adjacent terms at inopportune moments with Rory gently correcting her as she eats more hot dogs than Lu thought possible. Lu’s happy to just sit with her back on the row behind and her legs wide as she soaks in the sun with a beer in her hand. The game doesn’t really appear to be following the rules as she knows them so she mostly just tunes back in when something funny happens or when Lorelai asks for verification on whether or not you get extra points for hitting someone’s drink out of their hands with the ball. Lu’s not sure how much time passes as she dozes, but she pours her beer out when it gets warmed by the sun after only having a few sips. She’s not really a drinker, never has been, enjoys the feel of a cold drink in her hand more than anything else. Lorelai is offering to play a tune on it when Taylor’s voice raises another octave. It’s a relatively unremarkable sound and practically white noise at this point, but Kirk’s voice joins in and he sounds pissed. Lu looks up just in time to see him throw his bat down and storm off the pitch as Taylor yells something about sub-regulation 17-B of the National Baseball League Official Guidelines to Kirk’s retreating back. The-book-club-slash-cult running the game start clucking and fretting from further down the stands, and Lu lets herself smile at the sight of Mrs Gilmore attempting to settle them down while she finds a solution.

Lu’s ready to put her baseball cap over her face and have a nap in the sun when she sees Mrs. Gilmore’s face look up at Lorelai from the bottom of the stands, her pearls tight around her throat and her cardigan conservative even in this heat. She shoots Lorelai a look that makes Lu freeze up by proxy and she gestures with her head towards where Lu’s sitting, still looking at Lorelai.

“I think my mother wants you to play ball, Butch.” She has the gall to smile sweetly as she says it, too, and when she looks at Mrs Gilmore she’s smiling at Lu too, and she’s hook line and sinker here because it seems that her life is fucking run by the Gilmores. There’s no malice in the use of Lu’s nickname, more a taunt that Lorelai knows something about her when Lu is generally pretty reserved about stuff from her past. She still shoots her a look though, a dry flat look that she hopes conveys the exasperation the Gilmores put her through on a daily basis.

Maybe the baseball cap had been a dead giveaway that she played; she wouldn’t put it past Lorelai’s mother to jump to that conclusion. Either way, Lu stood slowly and made her way down the stand like she’d done countless times as a kid, and when Sookie and Rory whoop and clap she can’t help but smile a little, partly out of embarrassment. The earth is compact and dry as she rounds the pitch, gets a few claps on the back from some of the townsfolk. Taylor eyes her warily in his over-starched referee uniform like he’s expecting her to break the rules, but she guesses he does that for pretty much everyone. When she’s at batting position she can see Rory and Lorelai straight to her left, and when they do a, dare she say, _endearing_ two-person standing wave she raises her bat in a gently embarrassed response.

Lu didn’t bring gear, because why would she, but she’s played in street clothes countless times before so its not really new to her. She pulls her flannel off and half-throws in into the stands in a ball before she rolls up the arms of her black long sleeved tee past her elbows. Lu rolls her neck and pulls her hat off to run a hand through her sweat-damp hair; the sides and back are cropped above her ears, an undeniably masculine cut, and she still gets a wave of strength from the feel of it like when she’d been seventeen and looking in the mirror of the barber shop, her hair buzzed to a one all over, the feel of it under her hands its own kind of euphoria.

She thinks she feels eyes on her but she supposes that’s normal, being on the pitch surrounded by stands. Mrs. Gilmore’s ladies seem to be happy with the current proceedings, if their clucking is anything to go by, so Taylor signals for play to begin. Lu taps her bat on the dirt a few times, and takes up batting position like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Her hat is still backwards, which she thinks might be some kind of baseball faux pa or something because hardly any of the at bat players on TV seem to do it, but Taylor seems content so she leaves it. Not that she’d move it if he’d asked. There’s a looseness to her limbs that always kicks in right before the swing, the pause before everything locks in place.

The catcher signals. The pitcher raises her leg, pistons, and fires.

The muscles along Lu’s broad shoulders and back know this move beyond familiarity, the tension in her arms moving through her body and into the dirt and she swings the bat round and connects with the ball like a bolt of lightning. The sound is perfectly rounded and snaps off like a bullet. There’s a feeling like pins and needles down the bat as it breaks the tension.

Lu’s watching the ball fly, waiting for it to reach the apex of its flight, but it doesn’t for a few moments longer than she expects it to. The whole town is watching, shielding their eyes against the sun as the ball shoots past the pitch, over the southern bleachers and into the field beyond. It’s not a massive park, but Lu still feels pretty impressed with herself. One of the catchers whistles low. Taylor looks like he might explode.

She has the good grace to look slightly sheepish and she raises her hand to scratch the back of her head. She was known for plays like that when she’d been on the local team, but its been that long Lu guesses she’s probably a fair bit stronger than her sixteen year old self was. Lifting crates of food and commercial gas to and from the diner was work out enough to keep her in good shape, and she did work out on the side when Lane insisted she could hold down the fort for a while.

She’s about to turn to Taylor to give a half-assed apology when she catches Lorelai’s eyes from high on the bleachers, and she’s suddenly thinking of all the girls she used to see at football games staring moony-eyed at the square jawed and deeply bland quarterbacks. It’s a pretty self-indulgent thought, but she’s struck thinking maybe she’s not crazy, because even from her position on the field she can tell that Lorelai is breathing a little heavily, sees the rise and fall of her chest, and there’s the look in her eyes again, like maybe the quarterback will ask her to prom if she cheers the loudest when their home team scores a touchdown. And here’s where it starts.

She knows that Lorelai knows that she’s looking, and its part surprise and part bravery and not, she thinks with a start, not a small amount of want. That’s part of it, isn’t it? Lu thinks of the shape she must cut in her black work tee that’s tight around her shoulders and arms from a few too hot washes, the bat across slung across her shoulder. She doesn’t second guess these things generally, far past a teenage life of missing flirtations and passes because she couldn’t figure out how to talk to women. Lu loves women, loves her life revolving around women, so she likes to think she can tell when a woman is into her. She thinks of Lorelai, hair in a messy bun late-shift Lorelai, soft pyjamas and hair loose around her shoulders morning Lorelai, pencil skirt and professional up-do business Lorelai. Lu’s attracted to her, because of course she is, how could she not be, it’s never been something she considered when romances where throwing themselves at Lorelai’s feet like offerings. She’s still processing when Taylor starts yammering in her ear about health and safety violations while he holds his clipboard like its got government secrets on it. Lu turns to address him and fifteen minutes later they’re still fighting. All in attendance have taken it as a sign from God that they should have an interlude before the second half. Lu heads back to the stands to her cooler box and pulls out a cold beer to press to her neck. Sookie mimes a swing, complete with explosion sound effects, and Rory asked where she learned to bat like that.

“I used to play here a lot as a kid. Most people who went to school around the same time as me know I ended up here most nights.”

“Mmm. Sounds peaceful.” Rory smiles at her, and Lu is surprised by her insightfulness even when she’s experienced it countless times throughout knowing her.

“The trophies in the cabinet weren’t fakes then, it seems.” Lorelai narrows her eyes at Lu playfully. She’s playing with the hem of her skirt and Lu’s thrown again, wondering if Lorelai is intentionally drawing attention to her legs or just bored. Her face conveys only the normal gentle smugness Lu’s used to. It’s a little infuriating, and she likes getting to push harder.

“Nope. I’m surprised you weren’t at any of my games. I know this place pretty well.” Lu gestures with her beer towards a small white building a little behind the western stand facing towards some trees, green despite all the warm weather. “I think there’s maybe another old picture of me in there.”

Lorelai’s tempted, deeply so, just like Lu thought she’d be, and she’s set off to have a look before Lu can put the beer back in the cooler. Most of the crowd seem content to sit in the warmth and share some potluck food before the next round, and it’s a pretty nice scene. The small town thing gets on her nerves more times than not, but Lu’s got to admit, the smell of grilling coals and fresh lemonade on the hot dusty air is refreshing. She fills her lungs with it and puts her hands in her pockets, tapping out a rhythm against her leg as Lorelai fills the air with endearing chatter about how her high school only did lacrosse and what the hell even is lacrosse anyway, fancy upper-crust hockey?

They arrive at the old block and it feels at a distance from the rest of the grounds despite only being a two minute walk away. It’s banked by trees and partially shaded against the afternoon sun. The look of it hasn’t aged well but there’s something steady and useful looking about the exposed brick and plain windows that Lu likes.

“So this is where the magic happened.” Lu greatly suspects that Lorelai is saying this to get a reaction out of her, so she just crosses her arms and walks backward through the unlocked door, shooting her an unimpressed look. Some of the posh upper eschalon ladies from Mrs. Gilmore’s club had been using the space for extra storage, and some folded up tables and crockery partially fill a wide room wreathed with benches, coat hooks and high windows. There’s an earthy warm-brick smell to the place, like they are almost still outside, but its slightly cooler in here in where it’s darker. The walls feel warm to the touch on the south side where the sun has soaked in. Lorelai shakes her hair out of her ponytail, fluffing it up with her hands and pulling out a few stray knots with quick fingers. Lu gets a sweep of her shampoo, coconut and something citrusy, and she knows it, could probably pick out the scent from all the myriad bottles she has cluttered in her bathroom that Lu had forced her to move when she’d come over to retile the walls. It sends a heat shooting through her that she knows this, has seen these things, a flash reaction to her proximity and the idiosyncratic borderline intimacy that they share.

Lorelai’s found the trophy cabinet by a first aid kit on the wall and a box filled with dusty looking baseball titbits, and she’s tapping on the glass like its an aquarium at a picture inside. “Think I like your look here better than the other picture, Butch.” The girl inside of her that kept her eyes biblically averted from other girls in the changing room jumped with glee that she had to tamp down. It was a little embarrassing to be an adult and still have the same immediate inner reaction to _holy shit, a hot girl likes how I look._ She knew better now, knew people who’d liked how she’d looked enough to let her know.

Lu steps over and sees herself behind the glass next to her own current reflection. “Ah, see, I’m older here. Nineteen, maybe. I had to work, and with Liz, and then Jess, I couldn’t come as much anymore after this.” The girl in the picture has hair more like Lu’s current cut, and some more muscle on top of her characteristic bulk than the older picture at the High School, though not as much as Lu now. She’s sliding in the dirt as she tries to reach a mound, her jersey smeared with the dry mud of the pitch in summer. Lu actually thinks they used this picture in the paper, that Liz has a clipping of it somewhere even though there’s no mention of her in the actual article, but she doesn’t tell Lorelai that. Lorelai’s still looking in the glass when Lu fishes out a lightly chipped wooden bat from the box nearby, throwing it from hand to hand and swinging it experimentally. She didn’t mean to put on a show, but Lorelai’s watching her, looking at her arms as she tenses and swings.

“Want to show me a few tricks?” She cocks her hip out as she stands towards Lu. With an eyebrow raised, she flips the bat in one hand to point the handle at Lorelai, who takes it and begins swinging with the direction of a switched on garden hose.

“Okay, God, that is not how we do that.” Lu’s hand is pinching the bridge of her nose. “That’s how you kill someone. Probably me, because I’m closest.”

“Then show me, Ms. High School Baseball Champ!” Lorelai says, gesturing towards the trophies with the bat. Lu rolls her eyes again, but she’s kidding if she pretends she’s not very interested in getting closer to Lorelai, seeing what will make her breathing pick up again like it did before.

Lu steps in behind Lorelai, moving her arms around to also grab the bat, slow enough that Lorelai can step out, but she doesn’t. The smell of her shampoo is much stronger up close, and there’s other factors now, like the feel of Lorelai’s bare legs between hers and the unbearably sexy scent of sun and sweat on her neck. Her head sits just to the left of Lorelai’s and up a bit, and she must be wearing flats because she’s a bit closer to Lu’s height in heels.

“Show me what you’ve got.” Her voice sounds steady, and Lu thinks she must’ve got good at hiding things living with Mr and Mrs Friday Night Dinners, because the tremor along her skin says differently.

They practise swinging a few times, Lu correcting her foot stance and approach angle a few times before Lorelai pantomimes a decent swing with her. They swing again and suddenly Lorelai is grinding back, not strongly but enough to send a jolt through Lu. She’s groaning somewhere deep in her throat before she notices the air change around them, and Lorelai sucks in a small breath. They stop swinging, the bat pointed to the ground, and she does it again, and Lu chokes out a quiet _fuck_ into the where the skin of her shoulder is exposed by her Cardinals jersey. She kisses her there, softly, and Lorelai’s breath hitches. It’s a beautiful sound; Lu wants to hear it again.

“I can’t believe you wore the jersey of a team you don’t even know.” Her voice is lower than she thought it’d be, a little scratchy, and all they’ve done is some clothes-on grinding like a couple of teenagers.

“Yeah.” And the incorruptible Lorelai Gilmore, so good at hiding things, lets slip a little crack of something into her voice, and then Lu’s biting down on her shoulder to suppress her own groan when her hands slip under the hem of Lorelai’s dress. Lorelai drops the bat with a clatter, and then her hands are on Lu’s neck, pulling her baseball cap off and throwing it to the side, reaching up and around to rub against the close shave by her nape. It’s like this woman already knows her turn-ons, because fuck if the feeling of her nails through the shortest parts of her hair doesn’t set her off. Lorelai grinds against her again, purposeful, and Lu breaks.

Her hand is around Lorelai’s throat as she crowds her against the wall in a gap between two benches, and before she can pull away to ask if that’s something she likes, Lorelai’s eyes roll back in her head and her hands fist in Lu’s tee. Lu decides that she loves that look on her, and thinks of how she can make her do that again and again and again, in bed or out of bed, between her thighs or on her strap.

“Lorelai.” Lu’s hands start to work up the inside of Lorelai’s sweater and she pushes her hips out when Lu pulls it off.

“Lu.” Lorelai’s bra is jewel green, a little like Lu’s pick-up truck, and there’s something weirdly hot about that strange connection. Lorelai’s cups herself with one hand when Lu pulls it down and flicks at a nipple. She groans stiltedly, but Lu can do better, wants to make her feel what she’s been feeling for longer than she’d realised, a long running want that had been burning under her skin. She puts her mouth around Lorelai’s nipple, feeling around her hips and down towards her ass with her other hand.

“Oh, fuck. Fucking hell, _Lu_.” Lorelai's hands are greedy, roaming restlessly, but Lu is only concerned with how she wants to make this last; Lorelai is here and sunburned and soft beneath her, and all Lu can think is how good she’ll taste, how good she’ll feel around her fingers. Lorelai moves to unbutton Lu’s pants but Lu tightens on her throat by a small increment and moves her hands away, shaking her head and rubbing her thumb over Lorelai’s bottom lip. Lu’s always been a giver, finds satisfaction in giving it to others, and frankly she can think of anything hotter than getting to feel Lorelai tighten around her fingers; and then she’s thinking of how she’d look sucking on her strap, or with her legs above her head as she orgasms, eyes rolling back-

And Lorelai’s takes Lu’s thumb into her mouth. Lu groans brokenly.

“ _Christ_.” Lorelai takes satisfaction from that small victory, and Lu slides her hand up the skirt of Lorelai's dress even though she knows it’s gonna cramp like fuck later from this angle, to prove a point. Her underwear is already around her ankles, and Lu chuckles to herself and something snarky like _god, so eager_ forms in her mouth but-

“God, Lorelai, you’re _soaked_.”

“Well who’s fault is that?” Even pinned against a wall with Lu’s hand around her throat, she’s still incredulous. “I was thinking about you.” She licks her lips. “Fucking me behind the stands while the game was still on.” Lu tighens her grip a little and Lorelai gasps with pleasure - interesting. “Do you-“ She stops, swallows. “Do you think about me?”

Lu laughs, she can’t help it, because of course she does; she remembers the dark blue dress with the scoop neck Lorelai had worn to the Christmas celebration last year at the inn, she remembers the little pyjama shorts Lorelai wears in the summer and the too big sleep shirt that she selfishly wanted to be hers, she remembers pencils in her hair and smudges of paint on the inside of her neck and the smile she’d given when Lu had roughly complimented her choice of tile for the bathroom. She thinks about the nights she spent imagining Lorelai begging for release beneath her, the taste of her on her mouth, how Lorelai would look when Lu would fist some of her hair as she came apart with a curve of her back.

So Lu answers by resting her forehead against Lorelai’s and sliding a finger inside her with a breath. Lorelai’s toes curl in her shoes and Lu hitches one of her legs up to a better angle. Lorelai groans, drawn out and gasping. They stay like that for a few moments, foreheads together, connected.

“Oh fuck me, _fuck_. I didn’t – I-“

“I’ve thought about this since the horoscope.”

Lorelai groans as Lu pulls out and pistons again inside her, Lu’s calloused thumb over her clit. And she doesn’t speak again, a rare thing for Lorelai Gilmore, save for the delicious noises she’s making. “Fucking you on one of the diner tables, legs spread for me.” Lu slips another finger inside her, and Lorelai’s hands find enough of Lu’s lower back under her shirt to track paths down it with her nails. “In the pick-up.” Lu kisses the column of Lorelai’s neck as she arches back, teases the skin where her collar would sit and wonders if Lorelai would be sweetly embarrassed if people noticed the purple-dark mark she’d made. Lorelai’s hands move from Lu’s back to the thick-cropped crown of her hair, pulling with a closed fist to keep Lu’s eyes level with hers, and she wonders how the hell Lorelai could know that’s one of her turn-ons as heat shoots wire-like through her limbs, Lu’s mouth going dry as it hovers over hers.

Part of Lu selfishly wonders if this is one of Lorelai’s best, if she does it better than the seemingly endless parade of white-bread dull male hedge fund guys that seemed ready with a ring and a joint bank account off the bat. Lorelai closes a hand around Lu’s bicep, a look in her face like she’s on the precipice and she’s really the opposite of terrified, and suddenly she’s laughing, breathlessly, and Lu can feel it in her arms and legs and from where she’s pistoning inside her. She’s gasping and sighing and _laughing_ , her cheeks flushed and generally sporting a look of having been thoroughly fucked, and Lu thinks that’s a pretty good sign.

* * *

Lu’s head is buzzing.

Lorelai had licked the palm of her hand after Lu had clamped it over her mouth to try and stifle her moans as she’d come. Lu had pulled back in disgust, much to Lorelai’s smug satisfaction and Lu’s own bewilderment, as she was very much still two knuckles deep in Lorelai and wet down to the wrist.

Lor’s phone had gone off shortly after, and it had taken several rings before she’d checked it and seen Rory’s name on the display. She’d extracted herself from where they’d been making out and palming each other like a couple of horny teenagers to take the call, and after a few minutes it seemed pretty sure that they’d have to postpone their activities. Rory had been calling on behalf of her grandmother – knowing that Lorelai would likely not pick up a call from her mother, as well as the latters own reluctance to learn the particulars of certain technology – to request assistance in the mending of several player’s kits. Kurt and Taylor’s disagreements had consequently resulted in the two teams coming to loggerheads in support of one or the other. Mitts had been thrown, lemonade had been tipped, pies had been mashed in faces. Lu was almost sad to have missed it, if she hadn’t been so happily occupied elsewhere.

Lu had kissed her again before they re-joined the others. She’d taken Lorelai’s arms and pulled her behind a wide oak, pressing her back against the trunk and taking her time to kiss the breath out of her. The way Lorelai chased her mouth made everything in her thrum, one hand threaded behind Lor's neck and the other pushing gently into her hip through her skirt. It had been a slow thing, not final, the little sounds she was making impossible to not respond to. Lu wanted a thousand more moments like this, was dying to take her home and take her apart and taste her properly and make her fucking coffee and eggs. She wanted to smell Lorelai’s perfume on her bath towels, see the shape of Lorelai in one of her shirts as she worked on inn bookings.

“It feels like – that we - “ Lu stops, searches for the words. Lor nods a moment later, completely sure, looking up at Lu with her eyes squinted a bit against the dappled sunlight. Lor’s heart is beating stacatto in her chest; Lu can feel it against her own. So Lu kisses her again, because of course she does, and she tastes like syrupy apple and mint and she’s surprised - but not really - at how easy it is to love her and be loved in return.

"Does sleeping with the owner get me free coffee at the diner?" Lu laughs and kisses her on the forehead, tugging her back towards the bleachers.

"I mean, no response - that's not a no." 


End file.
